It was still dark when Marin woke me. The room was cold and the shadows were thick in the corners. I sat up immediately.

  Marin was already moving around the room. She held a candle that cast a wavering light on her pale face. She looked nervous. Her hands shook slightly as she set the candle on the bedside table but her movements were purposeful.

  "My lady," she whispered. "It is time."

  I slid out of bed. The floor was freezing against my bare feet. Marin had laid out the clothes on the chair. They were the grey woolen dress my mother had given me along with a simple cloak and a thick scarf.

  I dressed quickly. The wool was scratchy against my skin but it was warm. I pulled the dress over my head and Marin fastened the belt.

  Mistress Helga was waiting by the door.

  She was a tall woman with grey hair pulled back into a severe bun. She was the head of the household staff and usually a figure of terror for the younger maids. Today she wore a heavy brown cloak over her uniform.

  "Are you ready Lady Seraphina," she asked. Her voice was low and clipped.

  "Yes Mistress Helga," I said.

  "Good. Stay close. And keep your hood up."

  She opened the door and checked the hallway. It was empty.

  We moved through the corridors like ghosts. We avoided the main staircases and stuck to the narrow service passages that ran behind the walls.

  I thought about Elodie as we walked.

  She was the first loose thread. A maid fired for just embracing me is absurd. It seemed like such a small event in the grand scheme of things.

  If we were going down into the town I might see her. People who lose their positions usually end up in the lower district.

  We reached the kitchen gardens. The cold hit me like a physical blow. It was a sharp and biting cold that made my eyes water.

  A small cart was waiting by the back gate. A single horse was hitched to it and its breath puffed out in the darkness.

  My mother stood by the cart. She wore a dark cloak with the hood pulled low.

  "Mother," I whispered.

  She turned and smiled. Even in the dark her smile was bright.

  "Good morning Seraphina," she said. "You are just in time."

  She lifted me into the back of the cart. It was piled high with blankets and sacks of grain. I settled into a corner between two sacks and pulled my cloak tight around me.

  Mistress Helga climbed onto the driver's seat and took the reins. My mother sat beside her.

  We moved out onto the service road. The wheels creaked slightly on the frozen mud but the sound was swallowed by the wind.

  We passed a guard post near the outer wall. A sleepy soldier stepped out of the sentry box and raised a lantern.

  "Halt," he said. "Who goes there."

  Mistress Helga did not flinch.

  "Kitchen supplies," she said. Her voice was bored and authoritative. "The cook needs flour from the miller before breakfast. Do you want to explain to him why his bread is late."

  The guard lowered the lantern. He clearly did not want to have that conversation.

  "Go on then," he grunted.

  Helga flicked the reins and we moved past him.

  I watched her back as she lied so casually.

  We rolled down the hill toward the town.

  The lower district was a grim sight in the grey light of dawn.

  The houses were small and huddled together as if trying to share warmth. Thin smoke rose from some of the chimneys but many were cold and dead. The roofs were white with frost.

  I saw people moving in the alleys. They were wrapped in thin coats or blankets. Some were gathered around small fires burning in metal drums. I saw broken furniture feeding the flames.

  This was a population right beside edge.

  I analyzed the scene.

  Hunger. Cold. Desperation. These were the ingredients for a riot. If the Duke did not release the grain soon the town would burn itself down just to stay warm.

  Helga stopped the cart in a small square near the center of the district.

  People began to approach slowly. They looked wary. Carts usually meant tax collectors or guards.

  My mother climbed down. She pushed her hood back slightly.

  "It is the Lady," someone whispered.

  The mood shifted instantly. The wariness turned into something else, hope and respect.

  A few men took off their caps. A woman even bowed low.

  "Please," my mother said. She raised her hands. "There is no need for that. We are just neighbors today."

  She began to unload the sacks.

  "Helga help me with the blankets. Seraphina come here."

  I climbed down slowly.

  "Take this," my mother said. She handed me a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth. "Give it to that family there. The one with the little girl."

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  I walked over to them. The man looked at me with wide eyes.

  "Here," I said. "It is from the manor."

  He took the bread with trembling hands.

  "Thank you," he said. "Thank the Lady."

  My mother was right behind me.

  "Thank Seraphina," she said gently. "It was her idea to bring extra today. She insisted we could spare more."

  The man looked at me again as his expression softened.

  "Thank you little Lady," he said. "You have a kind heart."

  I felt a strange twist in my chest.

  It was a lie. It was not my idea. But looking at his face I saw how effective the lie was. He was not just receiving charity. He was receiving a personal kindness from the future ruling class.

  We moved from house to house.

  We handed out blankets to old women who were shivering in their beds. We gave sacks of grain to fathers who looked like they hadn't eaten in days.

  Every time my mother pushed me forward.

  "Seraphina wanted you to have this."

  "My daughter was worried about the cold."

  "Lady Seraphina asked the cook for this herself."

  I handed out the supplies and listened to the chorus of gratitude.

  "The Duchess is kind," they whispered. "And so is the little Lady."

  "She is not like her father," another voice murmured. "She has her mother's kindness."

  My mother was building a legend. She was crafting a reputation for me brick by brick. She was ensuring that when I grew up the people would see me as their champion rather than their oppressor.

  It was brilliant and even manipulative. It was exactly what a good ruler should do.

  But my mind was on other things.

  I scanned the faces in the crowd. I looked into the doorways and the shadows.

  I was looking for Elodie.

  We had stopped at a dozen houses and I had seen no sign of her. If she had been fired she should be here. This was where the discarded servants went.

  We stopped at a small shack near the edge of the river. An older woman lived there alone. I handed her a thick wool blanket.

  "Thank you child," she rasped. She clutched the blanket to her chest.

  I decided to take the risk.

  "Excuse me," I said quietly. "Did you know a maid named Elodie. She used to work at the manor."

  The woman froze. Her eyes darted to my mother who was busy with the cart and then back to me.

  "Elodie," she whispered.

  "Yes. Do you know where she lives."

  The woman looked around nervously. A few neighbors had gathered nearby and they had heard the name.

  "She does not live anywhere little Lady," a man said from behind me. His voice was hard.

  I turned to him. He was leaning against a wall and his face was lined with soot.

  "What do you mean," I asked.

  "Her house burned down," the man said. "Two weeks ago. Just after she lost her position."

  "Burned down," I repeated.

  "Aye," the woman said. She lowered her voice. "In the middle of the night. Her and her whole family. Parents and two brothers."

  "Did they get out," I asked.

  The man spat on the ground.

  "No one got out. And no one saw the fire start until it was too late."

  He looked up toward the manor as if directly saying it towards the duke.

  "Strange thing about fire," he muttered. "It cleans up messes."

  "Hush now," the woman hissed. "Do not speak of such things in front of the child."

  "She should know," the man said. "She should know what her father does."

  I felt a cold weight settle in my stomach.

  They blamed the Duke. Of course they did. Nothing happened in this town without the Duke knowing. He was the authority. He was the monster in the castle.

  If a maid is fired and then her house burns down with her entire family inside the conclusion is obvious. It was a silencing.

  But something did not fit.

  The Duke did not handle the hiring and firing of maids. That was internal household management. That was the Duchess’s domain.

  I looked at my mother. She was smiling at a child and handing him a piece of dried meat. She looked like a saint.

  Could she have done it.

  I pushed the thought away. It was too big. Too dangerous. I needed more data.

  I turned back to the man.

  "I am sorry," I said. "I did not know."

  He looked at me and his hard expression softened slightly.

  "It is not your fault little Lady," he said. "You are just a child."

  My mother called my name.

  "Seraphina. We have to move on."

  I walked back to the cart. I climbed up and sat among the empty sacks.

  My mother climbed up beside me. She put her arm around my shoulders.

  "You did well," she said softly.

  "They are sad," I said. I kept my voice small. "About the fire."

  She stiffened slightly. Just for a second.

  "Fire is a tragedy," she said. "Especially in winter. That is why we must help them."

  She looked out at the grey town.

  "Some nobles are cruel Seraphina. They are selfish. They see people as numbers on a page."

  She was talking about the Duke again.

  "But these people need someone willing to protect them," she continued. "Not for glory. But because it is right."

  She turned to me and looked deep into my eyes.

  "The world may cast you as fragile one day. Or even as a villain. If that happens sometimes you must use the role they fear to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

  I listened to her words.

  She was teaching me to be a benevolent monster. She was telling me that it was okay to be feared as long as you used that fear for the right reasons.

  It was a lesson Viper understood well.

  We finished our run as the sun began to crest over the hills. The supplies were gone. We had helped perhaps fifty families. It was a drop in the ocean but it was something.

  As we prepared to leave a little girl ran up to the cart. She held a small wooden carving of a bird.

  "For you," she said breathless. She held it out to me.

  I took it. It was rough and unpolished but it had been carved with care.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "You are kind," the girl said. She beamed at me. "You are not scary at all."

  I looked at the carving in my hand.

  Its a small wooden carving with a symbol I couldn't understand.

  I wondered how long that would last.

  We rode back up the hill in silence. The town fell away behind us. The smoke from the chimneys looked a little thicker now.

  When we reached the service gate the sun was fully up.

  Mistress Helga pulled the cart into the shadows of the stable wall.

  "Quickly," she said. "The morning shift is starting."

  We hurried through the gardens.

  A steward was coming down the path carrying a ledger. He stopped when he saw us.

  "Mistress Helga," he said. He looked at our cloaks. "And... Your Grace."

  He bowed deeply but his eyes were suspicious.

  "Is everything alright," he asked.

  Helga stepped forward. She blocked his view of us.

  "The Duchess wished to inspect the winter storerooms personally," she said. "Before the inventory count. I was escorting her."

  "Ah," the steward said. "Of course. Very diligent."

  He bowed again and hurried away.

  I noted the interaction.

  Helga had deflected him effortlessly. But more importantly the steward had accepted the lie because he did not want to question the Duchess. The household was split into quiet factions. There were those who reported to the Duke and those who looked the other way for the Duchess.

  We reached the family wing safely.

  My mother stopped at her door. She looked tired. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes that had not been there before.

  "Go to your room Seraphina," she said. "Marin is waiting."

  She kissed my cheek.

  "I am proud of you."

  I watched her slip inside her room. She looked like a woman who was carrying a heavy burden. Or perhaps a secret.

  I walked back to my own room.

  Marin was waiting. She looked relieved to see me.

  "You are back," she said. "Come. Let us get you out of those clothes."

  She helped me change back into my warm velvet dress. She fussed over my hair and rubbed my cold hands.

  I sat by the window. I held the wooden bird in my lap.

  The people in the town were grateful. My mother was actively kind. She was risking her own position to help them.

  And yet.

  The man’s voice echoed in my mind.

  Her house burned down. Everyone died.

  The peasants blamed the Duke. It was the easy answer. The logical answer.

  But my mother had access. She had control over the staff. She had just shown me that she was capable of operating in the shadows.

  And she had told me that sometimes you have to play the villain to protect people.

  Was Elodie a threat to someone. Was her family a liability.

  I looked at the castle walls outside. They were thick and imposing. They were built to keep enemies out. But they were also built to keep secrets in.

  I felt a headache building behind my eyes.

  The data was contradictory. The characters were not behaving according to their archetypes.

  The Duke was a tyrant who saved me from the cold. The Duchess was a saint who taught me to be a villain. And somewhere in the ashes of a burned house lay a truth that neither of them wanted me to find.

  I lay back on my bed. My body was exhausted. The physical strain of the morning was catching up to me.

  But my mind would not rest.

  It kept turning over the pieces of the puzzle.

  Elodie. The fire. The Duke’s silence. The Duchess’s smile.

  Something was fundamentally wrong. There were gaps in Seraphina’s past. There were holes in the story I had been given.